The First Place Losers
by ForeverYoursEmma
Summary: Panem always celebrates the victors, but what about those who come so close to winning only to fall when it matters most? Take a seat and watch all the tributes who failed to make the cut.
1. 1: Mockingbird

**A/N: Feels like drabbling. I got this idea last night for a drabble about every single final battle/moment in Hunger Games history told from the first place loser's perspective. Enjoy!**

…**..**

**The Girl Who Didn't Watch Her Back**

_Mocking Hartnet: District 1_

I perch myself on the branch, keeping constant watch. I was in the final two of the first ever Hunger Games. This horror that was forced on to me suddenly begins to lift itself. In its place lands the first bit of hope that I could get out of this.

The low chirp of a mockingbird travels into the cold air, creating a lonely sound in the night. The very bird I was named after always seems to be lonely. It is such a reflection of my own life.

_Fire crashes down on what used to be such a simple, lovely District. What was once my home has turned to raging, uncontrollable flames and I powerless to stop the terror._

_The peoples' hopeless screams fill in the gaps of sound, almost matching pitch with the explosions. All I want is to run, to hide, and to end this. But the fire keeps on descending. The Capitol has bested us all yet again._

"_Mocking!" a voice screams over all else. I halt my footsteps, turning to see who called my name. My little sister is standing steps behind me, tears cascading down her pale cheeks. _

_I reverse my run, desperate to save my sister. The fire burns, leaving smoke coating my lungs, but I run on. I must reach her._

_But I am one step too late._

_She screams as the fire collapse on her in one fatal smash. I am forced to watch as my little sister is engorged in the flames that have killed so many others. Her small hand reaches out to me one more time before it crumbles into ashes._

_The scream barely escapes my lips when I am swooped over someone's shoulder. The tears race down my own cheeks as my father with me and mother in tow makes a break for the train station._

_One lone train is being forced over the limit with scared, screaming passengers. Men and women cling to small children, not daring to let go. Some scream to only let women and children on, but others want it first come first serve._

_My father takes no chances with my mother and I. He desperately sprints down the tracks, looking into every car. We finally come to one empty boxcar._

_My father throws me in and my mother next. But he makes no attempt to join us, but instead he runs back down the platform._

"_PAPA! PAPA!" My screams fall on deaf ears. My mother crawls herself into a dark, dismal corner, screaming silently into the night. She only pities herself as I scream only for my father._

_The train gives a vibrant jolt and begins to speed out of the station. I am thrown out of the door frame, back against the train car's inner wall._

"_PAPA," I scream louder than I ever thought I could. But no one was around to hear my pleads and cries. Not even my mother comes to comfort me. I am here alone, watching as my District is burned into nothing, but a pile of ashes, just like my sister._

_I slink down the train wall, collapsing to the floor. My head buries itself into my knees as fresh tears well up in my eyes. My whole life just went down in flames._

_My eyes flicker out of my knees and find the still opened door. Smoke covers the sky like a blanket of clouds that even from here burns my eyes. Yet, no fire plagues this place. Trees dot the landscape and green is as vibrant as the orange in the flames._

_A lone mockingbird flies into our car, tweeting its depressing song. My lips circle and faintly, but very faintly, match its funeral tune._

_Another bird follows our music into our car, matching our pitches. It was not mockingbird. It was a jabberjay, the notorious Capitol mutt. Such as small, quite beautiful bird, but it can carry so much evil._

_The jabberjay perches itself next to my mockingbird, whistling cheerfully along with us. The mockingbird inches closer to the guest, looking at it whistling her tune._

_In the strangest way, the whole ordeal comforts me. Maybe even after the fire takes away everything, hope withstands it all and brings love back into the world._

The mockingbird still continues the low tune, carrying it along. I am tempted to whistle along with the little bird, but it might draw unwanted attention. If I am to win, I have to remain subtle and cool.

I hold on to the branch when my legs begin to grow tired. Waiting was a boring and dreary thing to do. But I have no other choice. The boy from 4 was much larger and much more powerful than me. I would take one simple jerk of his arm to break my neck. I would just have to let the Capitol bring us together.

"You should really learn to watch your back."

The arrow pierces through my neck quickly. My last breath gets choked up with my blood. I don't bother removing my arrow. The branch that steadies me loses my grip, sending me plummeting to the ground, helpless to hold myself up.

The mockingbird is making a noise again. Only this time it is not low and sweet. It is high and chirpy. Almost like a laugh, a scornful laugh.

They are not called mockingbirds for nothing.

…

**A/N: Tell me what you think. I already have the second chapter ready, so if you like this I will post it later.  
-Emma**


	2. 2: Confrontation

**A/N: Here are the Second Games told in the view of our loser. This reflects my view on if you avoid confrontation, it bites hard when it catches you.**

…**..**

**The Boy Who Avoided Confrontation**

_Cristo Stoolen: District 7_

The cold air bites at me like the mosquitoes that lurk in the woods of District 7. I feel the nips, the tingling in my fingers, and the frigid feeling of being watched.

I had climbed the mountain for one purpose: to avoid what I really should be doing. Fighting to get out of this forsaken place. But in my world, when things go wrong, I avoid them at all cost. I've done that all my life.

"_DON'T YOU DARE WALK OUT ON ME!" My mother's voice echoes along the walls of the small house, so loud that it feels like the whole house has been rocked._

_My father stands in the doorway, bottle clutched in a death grip in his right hand. His eyes were puffy and red, his left hand rubbing his temple. He seems to be suffering one of his frequent migraines, but I can see the signs. He is either hung over or still drunk._

"_I'LL DO WHATEVER I WANT!" my father roars, hurtling the bottle at my mother's feet. The sound of shattering glass can be heard along with my mother's howls of pain._

_I remain curled in my corner, head in my knees and hands at my ears. I find that this position is the best when you want to remain unnoticed. I let the first tear trickle down, but I allow myself no more. Strength is one of the only things I have left and even that seems to be a mirage for me to cling to._

"_YOU CAN'T LEAVE ME!" My mother's voice loses its confidence. The card that holds me will be played any second. I crawl even deeper into the corner and tuck myself in tighter. I can feel my breath begin the first signs of hyperventilating. I force it down my throat and stop the breathing process all together._

"_WATCH ME!" The house gives a faint rock in response to my father's booming voice. But no footsteps have walked out the door._

"_What about Cristo?" my mother asks in a soft voice, a pleading voice. "What about our son?" Her voice wavers slightly, but she stills sets a firm tone._

_I hear the steps of my mother coming over to me. Through the crack in my knees, I see her bloody feet, shards of glass sticking out and the blood pooling around her. "Darling?"_

_I don't make a sound and I don't move a single muscle. I remain in my position, staying away from my own mother. I do not fear her, I do not fear my father, but I fear what is between them. This friction, this battle that seems to pursue them. It kills me in the worst way, inside._

_My mother tearfully sobs my name. She fears for me, but she does not pity me. At this point I can be a pawn in the game, a pawn in the friction. Neither she nor my father care that I am in the kind of shock that can kill person almost every day of my life. The just want a winner._

_I tense as I hear my father near as well. "The boy is crazy."_

"_That is no one's fault, but your own." Even my wretched sanity of insanity is a tool now. This will not be life. I swear I will avoid this. I will avoid the hurt, the problem. I swear to live a life without confrontation._

The wind continues to whistle on the slope of the mountain, hauling in more cold. I do not from my spot on the cliff's edge. I stare down at the sharp land below, the jagged rocks staring up in reply.

It is the hands that snake around my arms that awaken me from my trance. They hold fast on my arms, squeezing and cutting off circulation. I still do not move. This could all be something my mind has fabricated.

"Hello," a voice slurs behind me. The voice is real and horrifying. It is that of a girl, one who looks like a snake. Beautiful, but in her veins run poison, such that can kill. The girl from District 2 has snared her prey, me.

No word attempts to break my silence, for what am I to say? I dare not challenge her by saying hello in response and begging is futile.

"You know, the longer you run, the harder the problem is to face when it catches up to you." Her words are like the shards of glass, the ones that pierce your skin and draw blood. But underneath the pain, the truth is there. My problems have all come back to kill me.

"You must know that I have many weapons. However, I feel a person like you does not deserve such a…" she pauses to find the right word. "Noble death."

I open my mouth for the first time, sucking in a long, needed breath. "Then what death will suffice."

I can just picture the cold smirk playing out on her lips as she plots her final kill. "A death that will cause all the pain in the world. One that gives you…" Again the girl is at a loss for words. She better fix that before addressing the Capitol. "A dropping sensation."

I know the smirk is back, I can feel it. The first step is more forced than I expected. Something inside must want to put up an ill-fated fight. My toes reach the edge, sending bits of rocks at the abyss below. I bring in my last, lifeless breath.

"Bye, bye little boy," the girl says in a taunting tone. She releases my arms, but I have not a second to make a run. The push is rough, strong, and perfectly powerful enough to push me off the edge.

I fall in one swift motion. I don't scream, don't thrash, don't do whatever you are supposed do when falling. I just fall.

Fall to the problems I ignored my whole. Confrontation does hurt. And when you avoid it all your life, it bites back hard.

And it leaves you falling.

…

**A/N: I hope you liked it. And to answer your questions, yes it will go in chronological order and there will be all the Hunger Games. So, next is the Third Hunger Games.**

**Reviews are great.  
-Emma**


	3. 3: Ghosts

**A/N: Long time no update for this story, huh? Well, here is one. I got inspired for this one when reading a Stephen King book. Cookies will be awarded if you know the connection!**

**The Girl with the Ghosts**

_Lexcia Iyward District 3_

They dance in the shadows, sometimes in a slow motion or other times in rapid foot work. They lurk and creep, but they make themselves noticed.

(_the ghosts, the ghosts_)

Where is the sympathy now? Where is my life? It is in the bottle. It is in the bottle. No, it is not in the ghosts' hands. The Capitol holds the precious bottle. Shaken, trembling pawns that is what we are. And no apologies in anyone's eyes when we topple to our shattering breaking point.

(_the ghosts, the ghosts_)

I am Lexcia Iyward and this will be the day I die.

A sentence like that has no place in the mind of a simple girl of seventeen. No, not simple, but not of a mature state of mind. Yet, the sentence lurks like the ghosts, trapped in a constant stream.

The woods are dark at night. It is dark, dark in the most peaceful way. The ghosts like it here. Why? They know I will come to join them soon. Their whispering grows in the deepness of the forest. I can be one of them if I chose.

(_the ghosts, the ghosts_)

The boy will be here soon enough, with his ax and then it will all be over won't it? Yes, it will always be over…

"_Lexcia, did you hear me?" My grandmother stands before me, watching even my slightest move for the signs. The signs that ring insanity._

"_I heard you," I whisper quietly. Oh grandmother, if I heard you, why are you still so unsure. I do see you, don't you know? It is just that I see someone else more._

_She stood in the doorframe, unmoving. Still, her eyes shine on me. She is, or I guess was, so beautiful. Even now, with her fading gray outline and depressed features, she still holds her beauty. My mother was everything. Now she is everything in a ghost._

"_Lexcia, pay attention!" My grandmother is losing her patience with me. I don't know how there still could be patience, but I think she is still holding out on me. I don't have the heart to tell her she shouldn't._

_There is another figuring in the doorframe now. She moves, she can't help herself. A little wave is all she ever gives. No, not a wave, more like a beckon. My baby sister always wanted me to follow along._

"_Lexcia, please."_

"_Yes, Lexcia," my sister in the doorway whispers. "Please."_

But they always want you to give more than you have…

_I stand amongst the same people as I do every year and every year they keep their distance from me. I am one who doesn't belong. I watch the mayor mount the stage, coughing uncomfortably as he has done for the last three years._

_He makes everything short and to the point, like we like to do in District 3 and soon a Capitol lady is up on the stage to announce our tributes._

_The little girl is on the stage, smiling at me. Her face looks so tight with that smile on her lips. It does not look forced or pained, just tight. She does her little wave again, signaling me to come join her again. I wish I could._

"_Our female tribute is Lexcia Iyward!" The smile grows on the little girl's lips just as the space between me and my crowd grows. As I walk up to the stage, the children give me glances. I have never had the time to pick out whether all their glances our pity glances or ones of disgust. Maybe they are something in between._

"_It is almost time Lexcia," the girl whispers to me when I take my place. "I can't wait!" She is gone._

Every minute in these Games have made my yearning to be where ever my mother and sister are grow. I have been trapped in an invisible prison long enough.

(_the ghosts, the ghosts_)

And if the boy doesn't come, I will just have to take matters into my own hands.

I slide out the knife carefully, making sure not to show it to the cameras. The audience will not take kindly to what I am about to do.

The two ghosts draw closer, the little girl smiling and even my mother concealing a smile of her own. For once in a very long time, I feel loved.

(_the ghosts, the ghosts_)

I show them the dagger and bring it up to my heart. My sister nods her head at me, beaming with delight.

"Do it, Lexcia," she says. "Do it."

I glance around one last time at the world I will be leaving behind. But the world doesn't look as bright as I had ever remembered. The trees choke you with their shade, the bush ruffle at your misfortune, the flowers mock you with their bewitching beauty, and even the moon never gives you the light you need.

The world is my prison and the knife is my escape.

(_the ghosts, the ghosts_)

I plunge it into my heart without looking back just as the familiar sound of human footsteps approach. I see the boy, holding his ax, emerge as I collapse to the ground.

"Well, that was easy," he mutters, standing over me. I sense the bewilderment in his voice and maybe even pity.

"The world doesn't pity you, Lexcia," my mother says, the first words she has ever spoken as a ghost. "We pity you."

I close my eyes to welcome the place I wanted so very much to belong in. But all I see is darkness, no light, no beauty, no safety. Just more unending darkness.

My eyes fly open, but it is far too late to take back what I had finished. The world doesn't pity me. No one pities me.

(_the ghosts, the ghosts_)

There are no ghosts.

**A/N: Tell me what you think. Sorry I didn't update this for so long. I hope to have the next one out sooner.**

**-Emma**


	4. 4: Darling

**The Boy with One-Sided Love**

_Creel Stent District 4_

"_We're…perfect." The words spoken by my love do not come as a shock. Her outburst of love is not new to me nor will it ever be. I am now fluent in her language. She does not literally mean we are perfect. She just knows we are perfectly in love. Her complexity is one I am still getting through, yet I feel I read her like a book._

"_Perfect in what way?" It is the logical response to her statement. She announces herself so others will question her. It is as if her goal in life is to explain herself, her life, her way, and her meanings. I see the glitter in her eyes even though the sun has long set. I feel her words come over me as they always do: in a tidal wave._

_She takes the time to lie back on my shoulder and stare up at the midnight sky before starting. "We are like the moon and stars. We can not complete a night's sky without each other. A night without stars is like a night without spark. A night without the moon is a night without light. I need your light Creel."_

"_You will always be my star, Providence." I look up at the sky my darling has formed in her mind, the sky full of our endless love. I never dared to tell her, but I don't believe in love, the concept is too foreign. Still, as I gaze up at the perfectly in sync sky, I am beginning to believe in perfection. Our perfection._

"Sorry, darling." I slice her throat open and watch the maroon liquid stain the desert sand. I let her shoulders go and watch as she crumples to the ground, having already been dead in my grasp. The canon signals her death. I wish to feel pity for the poor girl of only twelve, but I can not. She is just one more kill closer to my home in District, where I belong. Home can do crazy things to you.

Providence looks on in her sullen silence she has taken on since the Games began. She does not rush me for a hug of victory. No, that is cheap in her eyes. It was almost a silent agreement of ours, to keep our relationship secretive. Providence believed using love to gain respect was tacky and will only grant us enemies. I only receive slight hand brushes from her.

Three more, that's all, just us two and a simple-minded boy from 6. It is his death that I fear the most. For his canon will lead to the inevitable. Another unspoken conversation between us, that of who will die. We both know well enough we will not both make it out of here alive. Why am I holding on to the hope a rule change is in order?

I am a coward and I can admit it to myself. I have subconsciously planned since the beginning to kill my love. Deep down, I can't say I would consider it the other way. Maybe I thought I would when we were not here in death's playground, but now it is not an option.

Sacrifice for the one you love is the way it goes, right? If so, why do I think these wretched thoughts? Why is the thought of escaping while Providence is lying dead on the ground enlightening for me? After weeks of combing my mind for an answer, I have taken the easy way out. Providence and I have simply fallen out of love.

She is still standing there, unmoved by the girl's death, untimely or not. Is she thinking the same thoughts as I am? The girl I use to read like a book is no more. She has shut me out as I have for her. Maybe I am right; we have fallen out of love. Maybe our love wasn't there in the first place.

The sun sets over the desert landscape. I don't suggest moving on, but we take a few steps to allow the Capitol to move the body. The sun has finished over the horizon when the jolt happens. The canon follows. I watch as the hovercraft scoops up both the bodies of the girl and the newly deceased boy. I should have known.

The Capitol really knows all. We have played into a trap. Our relationship has been no secret affair. The Gamemakers want our show and expect it to legendary. I wish I could stop myself from succumbing to their wishes, but this is what I have wanted. It is my chance to fly away and leave my doubting love behind.

I draw the knife from my jacket and take the first steps down the path. I will betray Providence quickly. She deserves that at least. The blade of my weapon catches the light of a full moon and I am momentarily distracted and confused yet again.

"_A night without the moon is a night without light. I need your light, Creel"_

She needed me then. Does she need me now? Am I making a mistake? No, the sky needs the moon more than the stars. I hope. I squeeze my eyes shut to block out the moon's violent light. I grip my knife tighter and prepare the ark.

"I never took you for a backstabber."

My eyes shoot open to find Providence facing me, her bow centered at my heart. Her eyes did not display betrayal, not even hatred. The eyes are blank as they always have been since the Games began. She is right though. I was no backstabber just as she was no blank book. The Games destroyed us more than our relationship.

"I didn't either, but I know you are never one to take the shot."

I am the backstabber. And she can take the shot. I feel the arrow pierce into my cold heart and I crumple to the ground just as the poor girl did before. Now it is my own blood staining the sand. I gasp in my last few breaths and open my eyes on to the girl who once told me she needed me to complete her.

"Sorry, darling."

**I hope you liked it. I will not be updating this story quite as frequently, but I will try. Reviews are much loved.**

**-Emma**


	5. 5: Career

**The Boy With Sanity**

_Cullen Marcson: District 2_

"_We want a pack," the man says curtly, his hands clasped on the table and his eyes staring us six down. The two on either side of him say nothing. We don't say anything either for we don't know how to respond to the President of Panem. We may be the richest of tributes and the best the country has to offer, but we are still not Capitol and this isn't what we were brought here for. At least that was what we originally thought._

"_A pack?" My District partner speaks for us all. We are all on the edge of our seats and we have been like that since we were told to sit. The six of us, tributes from One, Two, and Four, were called out of Training for what we were told was a standard evaluation of skills. We were met by the President instead. Confusion isn't the right word to explain what we feel towards this, or at least what I feel. Why us?_

"_Yes, a pack or you may see it as an alliance. The past four Games have been…interesting, but we need something to weed out all the weak players early, help the betters see who's got game." The President adds a toothy smile to the end of his sentence before continuing. "We knew your District would be able to support programs to train such alliance members."_

"_Isn't training of tributes illegally?" the girl from one asks. The question had been on the tip of my tongue too, but I knew it was a stupid question. It poked holes in the President's plan. I suppose One girls really are on the duller side of the mind. _

_The President gives a low chuckle to the girl's question. "Originally yes, but this is going to be kept on the down low and if any other District asks, we'll say we are looking in to it. The bottom line is we need a group to make the Games more fun. We are giving you the advantage. Will you do it?"_

_The six of us look at each other for the first time since we entered the room. It strikes me that we all look like children, naïve, slightly vain children. We aren't a pack of monsters. Not one of us has worked a day in our simple lives. However, when I see the boy from One smile an almost wicked smile, teeth bared, I know. The Capitol really can turn a group of pretty boys and girls into pretty little weapons just by telling them it will make them better than everyone else._

_After a few more glances and delighted smirks, we have made the decision with little regret. The boy from One speaks for all of us in saying, "What exactly will we be doing?"_

"He never did tell us what to do after we killed everyone," the boy from One says as we reminisce over that meeting. Since then I have learned his name is Leather, a ridiculous name, though I think it matches his laughable ego. However, he is lethal and just what the Capitol wanted.

"Very true," I reply, taking a sip of water for a half full canteen. We had done what the Capitol had asked to a tee. We weeded out all the bad seeds and continued to the mediocre ones. Then, things got messy. For some of us didn't want to stop. When it came to the final eight, only two people stood in our way until we had to start killing each other.

I like to believe I still have some compassion left after everything I did. I also like to believe I wasn't one of the ones who went off the deep end. Once both the non-pack people were dead, there was a stalemate. No one wanted to be the first person to stab someone in the back. Finally, the boy from Four did us all a favor by killing the girl from One in a bloody affair that killed the two plus the boy's District partner.

And then there were three.

My District partner went insane though it is possible she was insane before it all. The girl took off after the betrayal and pack massacre, screaming all the way, but disappeared none the less. Leather and I came to a silent agreement that we wouldn't kill each other until we find her. We are surprisingly holding to our promises. Maybe it is because we weren't the crazy ones. Maybe it is because we haven't snapped yet.

"When do you think the Capitol will step in? You know, since we can't find her," Leather asks.

"It looks like you don't have to." The canon and the voice occur at nearly the same time. I scramble to my feet to be greeted by the sight of Leather, throat spilling over with blood and a fair-skinned girl, knife still in hand, slick with the color red. She was the thing we were supposed to be finding, but I never thought I'd see the day we actually caught up to her.

"Ash, still crazy?"

"Cullen, still hanging on to your last shreds of sanity?" Ash lets Leather's body fall from her arms and she leisurely gets to her feet. Ash carefully removes the blood from the blade, leaving a large streak of Leather's blood on her shirt. In response to my disgusted look, she asks," What, don't you want to be killed with a clean knife?"

"I don't think the Capitol will want a crazy Victor," I point out to her, sliding my sword out from my belt. Blade in hand, I dare myself to take a step closer to her rather than taking a fearful step back. I can't look like the coward. _I cannot be the crazy one._

"Then don't give them one," Ash says, her smile and tone of voice taunting. She takes her own few steps forwards to meet me in the middle, knife out like a sword. If I had just been a carefree observer, I would find the presentation of this showdown laughable.

"Sword against knife, that's hardly fair."

"Why are you worried? Don't you have the advantage?" I don't want to kill the poor girl. The Capitol has put her through so much. They have taken her mind. Now, they want _me _to take her life.

I sigh bitterly at the horrible hand of cards the Capitol has handed to Ash, but I close the between us. In one swift motion, my sword slams down on her little blade. The blow knocks the weapon out of her hands. I point my sword at her heart, hesitating to push it in. The response I get is the giggle of a young school girl who knows a secret.

I watch in slight horror as Ash puts a hand on the blade, pressing in slightly. My eyes are captivated by the blood slowly leaking on to the dirt. I swallow hard and look back to Ash. She now has her other hand on the blade and another deep cut is dripping blood. Paralyzed from the shock, I helplessly watch as Ash maneuvers away from the point of the blade, but does not pick up her hands as she comes closer to the hilt of the sword. She slides them, slicking my sword with her blood.

Ash reaches me, smiling as if she is no pain. "You know, Cullen, sometimes it helps to lose your mind along the way. Do you know why, Cullen?" The question is asked sweetly. I watch as she bats her eyelashes at me, her eyes not innocent, but not sinister either. I can't bring myself to speak so I only shake my head. I receive a laugh.

And a knife jammed into my throat.

"_That's why."_

Call me crazy, but I believe I just lost to a girl who lost her mind.

**Not my best, but wanted to display what happened to the first Career pack. Review!  
-Emma**


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